“James Bell did it, then turned the gun on himself, after Lee had committed suicide.”
“Really?”
“Doug, are you looking for anything in particular, or trying to dig your way out of here through the desk?”
He looked up at her and grinned.
“I was telling you,” she went on, “that Lee didn’t kill those two boys.”
“Right.”
“Which means the only puzzle left is the drugs found on his boat. I’m assuming you knew about the yacht he kept moored shoreside?”
He could no longer hold her gaze. “Why would I know anything about that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Look, Siobhan…” Brimson made a show of checking his watch. “Maybe we can leave the paperwork. Wouldn’t do to miss our slot…”
She ignored this. “The yacht looked good because Lee sailed to Europe, but now we know he was selling diamonds.”
“And buying drugs at the same time?”
She shook her head. “You knew about his boat, and probably knew he went to the Continent.” She’d taken a step towards the desk. “It’s the corporate flights, isn’t it, Doug? Your own little trips to the Continent, taking businessmen to meetings and on jollies… that’s how you bring the drugs in.”
“It’s all going to hell,” he said, almost too calmly. He’d leaned back in the chair, hands smoothing his hair, eyes staring ceilingwards. “I told that stupid bastard never to come here.”
“You mean Peacock?”
He nodded slowly.
“Why plant the drugs?” Siobhan asked.
“Why not?” He gave another burst of laughter. “Lee was dead. Way I saw it, it would focus attention on him.”
“Taking the heat off you?” She decided to sit down. “Thing was, there was no heat
“Charlotte thought there was. You lot were sniffing into every nook and cranny, talking to Teri, talking to me…”
“Charlotte Cotter’s involved?”
Brimson looked at her as though she were stupid. “It’s a cash business… all needs to be laundered.”
“Through the tanning salons?” Siobhan nodded, letting him know she understood. Brimson and Teri’s mother: business partners.
“Lee wasn’t squeaky clean, you know,” Brimson was saying. “He was the one who introduced me to Peacock Johnson in the first place.”
“Lee knew Peacock Johnson? Is that where the guns came from?”
“That’s one thing I was going to give you, only I couldn’t see how…”
“What thing?”
“Johnson had these decommissioned guns, needed someone to put the firing pins back, that sort of thing.”
“And Lee Herdman did it?” She thought of the well-stocked workshop at the boatyard. Yes, a simple enough job, with the tools and the know-how. Herdman had had both.
Brimson was quiet for a moment. “We could still go for that flight; shame to miss the slot.”
“I’ve not brought my passport.” She reached out a hand towards his phone. “I need to make a call now, Doug.”
“I’d cleared our path, you know… cleared it with the flight tower. I was going to show you so much…” She’d risen to her feet, lifted the receiver.
“Maybe another time, eh?”
The two of them knowing there would be no other time. Brimson’s palms were flat against the desktop. Siobhan was holding the receiver to her ear, halfway through punching in the numbers. “I’m sorry, Doug,” she said.
“Me too, Siobhan. Believe me, I’m as sorry as hell.”
He pushed up from the desk, lunged across it, sending all the paperwork flying as he came. She dropped the phone and took a step back, colliding with the chair behind her, tripping over it and hitting the floor, hands outstretched to cushion the blow.
Doug Brimson’s whole weight landing on her, pinning her down, punching all the breath from her chest.
“Got to fly, Siobhan,” he snarled, gripping her by the wrists. “Got to fly…”
26
Happy, Bobby?” Rebus asked. “Deliriously so,” Bobby Hogan replied. They were entering the bar on South Queensferry’s waterfront. The meeting at the school could hardly have been better timed. They’d managed to interrupt a meeting between Claverhouse and Assistant Chief Constable Colin Carswell, Hogan taking a deep breath before stating that everything Claverhouse was saying was nonsense before going on to explain why.
At the end of the meeting, Claverhouse had walked out without any comment, leaving his colleague Ormiston to shake Hogan’s hand, telling him he deserved the credit.
“Which doesn’t mean you’ll get it, Bobby,” Rebus had said. But he’d patted Ormiston’s arm, to let him know the gesture was appreciated. He’d even asked him to join them for a drink, but Ormiston had shaken his head.
“I think you’ve just assigned me to solace duty,” he’d said.
So it was just Rebus and Hogan in the bar. As they waited their turn, Hogan seemed to deflate just a little. Usually at the end of a case, the whole team gathered in the murder room while cases of beer were dragged in and opened. Maybe a bottle of fizz from the brass. Whiskey for the more traditionally minded. This didn’t seem the same, just the two of them, the original team already dispersed…
“What’ll it be?” Hogan asked, trying to sound breezy.
“Maybe a Laphroaig, Bobby.”
“The measures don’t look generous.” Hogan had run an expert eye over the gantry.
“Better make it a double.”
“And decide right now who’s the designated driver.”
Hogan’s mouth twitched. “I thought you said Siobhan was joining us.”
“That’s cruel, Bobby.” Rebus paused. “Cruel but fair.”
The barman was ready for them. Hogan ordered Rebus’s whiskey and a pint of lager for himself. “And two cigars,” he added, turning towards Rebus, seeming to study him. He rested his arm on the edge of the bar. “Result like this, John, makes me think I want to go out while I’m winning.”
“Christ, Bobby, you’re in your prime.”
Hogan snorted. “Five years ago I’d have agreed with you.” He took a wad of notes from his pocket and extracted a ten. “But this just about does it for me.”
“So what’s changed?”
Hogan shrugged. “A kid who can go and shoot two classmates, no real motive, I mean, none that makes any sense to me… It’s a different world from the one I used to know, John.”
“Just means we’re needed more than ever.”
Hogan snorted again. “You really think so? You see yourself as being wanted, do you?”
“I didn’t say ‘wanted’; I said
“And who needs us? People like Carswell, because we make him look good? Or Claverhouse, so he’s not screwing up any more than he already is?”
“They’ll do for a start,” Rebus said, smiling. His glass was placed in front of him, and he dribbled some water into it, just enough to take the edge off. Two thin cigars had arrived, and Hogan was unwrapping his.
“We still don’t really know, do we?”
